Avatar: Fighting the Modern Age
by Alana C. Jones
Summary: Does this waterbender have what it takes to prevent benders from going extinct in this modernized, nonbending world? It won't be easy, but there are still a few in this world that don't treat bending like the plague.
1. Intro

**The first installment of Avatar: Fighting the Modern Age. Sorry that the intro is totally corny and pathetic.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar, Dasani, or any "hospitals"**

Avatar: Fighting the Modern Age

_Intoduction_

A teardrop rolled silently down my cheek, to the tip of my chin, and into my 12 oz. Dasani bottle. One of the "nurses", the only one with even a pinch of kindness left, gave the water to me. She could see that I needed more than just a tiny drink of water once every three days in order to remain in a state of decent health. I acted foolishly though. Instead of saving water for later, I drank it all within a time of thirty seconds, too parched to think. Now I have to save whatever water I can get a hold of. The only good thing is that I have a place to keep the water now. My work is much more efficient. I haven't seen that nice worker since, but I've heard from others that are imprisoned here that she still works here.

I sighed dryly as I stared around my room. There's really nothing interesting about it. It's just a dull cube of gray stone. There isn't even a TV. Apparently, they think I could use it as a dangerous weapon or something. This place was supposed to help me, for evidently, there was something wrong with me. "This is a hospital. It will help you," they had said. Even as they were dragging me, bound, gagged, and held by five large men, into this place, they tried to reason with me. I knew they thought I was mental, but did they honestly believe I was that stupid? Hospitals don't gather their strongest workers to hold a person's limbs down while they pour water down his or her throat. This locked hole of misery that I'm slowly deteriorating in isn't a hospital. It's a prison. It's either that or I'm a part of some major hostage crisis (though that's highly unlikely). I sit around, dreaming that I was a victim of something illegal, that the police would show up and arrest these terrible people, and set the prisoners free, set me free. Sadly, I know that is not the case, for this dungeon is run and funded by the government. The only way out is to get out myself.

I was interrupted in the midst of my thoughts by the sound of footsteps in the hallway. I quickly twisted the cap on the bottle and hid it under myself. The steps grew louder and louder until I could tell that they were standing right in front of my cell door. They stopped. The sliding eyehole in my door slid open. I faked a blank expression and stared thoughtlessly at the ceiling. The slide closed, and the footsteps began to fade away.

For those who think this event is odd, I've got news for you. It's pretty much a daily occurrence. I've seen that face so many times I can recognize it just by the eyes. He's definitely my least favorite guard. I always have to fake docile and mindless whenever they're nearby. I want them to think I've given up, given in. Little do they know the biggest step to rebellion and to their downfall is soon to be made.

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Well, there you have it. I'm putting a poll up on whether I should continue this. Plz vote on it. My story's fate depends on you...


	2. Chapter 1: The Escape Plan

Okay, I acknowledge how far overdo this chapter is, and I apologize especially to Jiao-Jie who gave me the encouragement and kind comments that made me want to get the next chapter out. I could blame the few days without internet, being in a bad mood, and school starting for the delay of the chapter, but those all sound like excuses, and there is not excuse for how short this is and how long it took to come out.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: the Last Airbender, characters, themes, or plots affiliated with it.

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Chapter 1

There was silence in the chill of the night as the light of the full moon shined through the bars of the tiny window that was placed near the top of the cell, barely above the ground. There weren't any guards or nurses or whatever it is you wish to call them roaming the hallways at this hour, for most of the prisoners are asleep by this time. However, I am not most of the prisoners. Despite the late hour, I lay more awake than I'd been all day and stared out at the moonlight. It was winter, my favorite season, even if the frigid air blowing through the window did chill me to the bone. I watched gentle snowflakes fall peacefully. Not all took the peaceful route. Others played follow the leader with the wind, landing on the cold stone floor of my cell, instead of the soft, warm, and wet ground. That's how I liked to imagine it anyway.

I've been outside, sure, but not for real. Every once in a while we're allowed into a courtyard, but it's got the same stone flooring as the cell, so there really wasn't any difference. I haven't truly been outside in five years.

Sometimes, it's hard to believe that I was really only ten when I was put in this place. Hard to believe that I used to sit and bawl, missing my family and my old life. Now, I only cry when I want to, not because I'm sad. Having been here so long, I've learned to stop feeling sorrow and stop feeling sorry for myself. I've even found a way to feel happy for a few moments at a time. I'd sit and think about how, when I manage to get out of here, I will, someday and somehow, find a way to get this place shut down, and all the awful people that work here will get to enjoy a taste of their own medicine. Admittedly, it was a slightly sadistic way to be happy, but it was a way.

As you may have noticed, there was one emotion that still ran free – anger. My anger wasn't limited to violent thoughts though. There are times when I'll get angry enough that I'll completely lose control of myself and become so dangerous that I apparently need to stay in the plastic room for a week. It's not that I don't want to reign in the anger. There are just too many things that I can get angry about.

Obviously I'm angry at the evil beings that dragged me here, hold me here, and treat me like chewed gum that got stuck to the bottom of their shoes. I'm enraged with my parents, for in the five years I've been here, they've just ignored me as if I never existed and have only come to even visit me twice. I'm furious at myself for not being able to escape and that I'm odd, some freak of nature in some people's minds. The fact that I was an oddity was what brought me here in the first place. However, my strangeness could be the only way of escape as well.

I continued to stare out at the winter sky, feeling the strange surges of power that always seemed to come the same time that the moon was full. I smirked. _They work so hard to keep me from water, yet they allow it to gather right at my feet. At least I don't need to continue wasting time filling the bottle. _I hesitated only a moment to reassure myself of the silence before jumping up from the cot and hurrying over to the pile of snow below the window.

There were tiny spaces between the window and the wall caused by decades of deterioration. The cracks were hardly noticeable, but it was enough. Snow melting as soon as I picked it up and taking the water from the bottle, I formed the water into a very thin and flat stream and fit into the cracks, freezing it. Naturally, when water freezes, it expands. Normally, erosion like this would happen over time, but I just hoped I could speed things up.

Hours later, the moon starting to descend in the sky, the bars finally budged. I wrapped two streams of water around the bars and pulled as hard as I could, occasionally alternating between pulling on the left and right. It was at least another five to ten minutes before the bars on the window slid out of place, and I laid it on my cot. With the window open, all that was left to do was get up to it. Yeah…that's easier said than done.

I had thought a lot about how to climb the wall, but what I eventually decided on was rather flawed. The handles of ice would stick on the wall if frozen there, but they weren't capable of holding much weight, or for very long. Regardless that it would only take a few steps, I still didn't like the idea of loudly falling back to the ground. I pulled out and froze the dampness that resided in the bricks throughout most of the year, making 6 foot-and-hand holds on my left and right. I took careful consideration of where I would step in order to not waste time and began to climb.

I only had the slightest problem when getting from the last icicle to the window ledge. My hands were already freezing from climbing, and I had a hard time pulling myself up. Those few moments it took to lift myself up dislodged the foothold. It hurtled to the ground. I managed to melt it, but it still splashed against the ground as water. Hopefully it wouldn't be loud enough to wake anyone, but I still decided that I'd better get going.

The window space was very small. There was no room to just sit there, so, by dragging my legs onto the windowsill, I was pulling my head and torso outside. After all the time I'd spent thinking and planning, I was finally free, and I'm ashamed to say my first thoughts were how stinging cold it was. My hands, already numb from climbing the ice, didn't notice too much, but it bit at my face as it fell on the ground.

Those whiny thoughts and silly complaints quickly faded away though to be replaced by a sense of elation. I was free. I was actually out. The moon wasn't just a fragment of rock in the sky anymore. It was an entire orb; reflecting off the snow and making it glisten. For the first time in five years, I walked free. I've grown up a lot since then. I'm not the stupid, naïve baby that I was what seems so many years ago. I picked myself off the ground and began walking off to the east, where the sun was just beginning to rise, with only the dingy, thin clothes on my back and a bit of old money.


	3. Chapter 2: The Warden

Okay, so I've had this actually typed up for a don't even know how long, and I completely forgot about it. But, I guess, better late than never. I wasn't actually sure if I wanted to come out with this chapter, because it pretty much covers the whole problem in one chapter, and I don't have anything else written after this. I'm afraid it'll be another really long wait, but it was about time I at least got this chapter out.

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Third-Person POV

The sun rose, announcing early morning upon the overcrowded asylum, signaling that the nurses would be begin making their morning rounds, only to find that they were one prisoner short.

"It's so bright. UGH!" the lazy warden complained, running his hand over his face, as he was woken forcefully by the powerful sunlight. He'd been having a wonderful dream. He had control of the whole entire world. However, this was only somewhat real. He didn't officially rule the world, but he probably could've had it in his power to take over. In truth, he could easily be called the sole reason people believed benders to be only things of legend. It had started with just a small team of non-benders that felt undermined and underprivileged to those who could bend; a small team that wanted a taste of power. He knew the only way to do that was to completely rid the world of benders. As long as benders remained, the war would continue. As more benders were overpowered, more non-benders joined his ranks. Within 30 years, the war had been won and the benders, and all those who stood with them, had fallen. Through dozens of battles, by mostly waterbenders and earthbenders, the world's geographical layout had been drastically changed. A new history was made up to go along with their new world, covering up the truth. Those who refused to accept the new history, that new the truth, were taken away, where they could not spread their stories. Of course, even with benders and belief in their existence eliminated, there was no way to truly be rid of them forever. The potential for new benders to arise would always exist, but the warden had come up with a solution for even that as well. There were spies, scouting the world, keeping an eye on any potential benders, as well as any 9-1-1 calls that benders were potentially the cause of. If they were to find one, the bender would be taken away and locked up, often before they even realized the power they possessed. The children were kept as far away from their element as was possible, to avoid inspiring them to use it. They were to be provided with only 'nonfiction' books, for those who were allowed books. They couldn't be allowed any fantasy stories, for it would give them something more spectacular to dream of. Their brains had to be kept full of the fake truth, so maybe they could be brainwashed into being normal. The war could never be truly over, but at least, thought the Warden, he would always be winning.

After being rudely awoken from his marvelous dream, the warden was now not in the best of moods, and it was only going to get worse from there.

"Warden! Warden! It's terrible, absolutely terrible! She's escaped!" One of the nurses, Lara, came running into the warden's room screaming; tears were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes, for she knew the dangers of being the bringer of bad news.

"Haha, I believe you have been spending too much time around these deranged lunatics, because you seem to be going delirious. There isn't any way somebody could have possibly escaped. No one has the strength or mental stability to just get up and leave." Sounding a bit more serious, though only a bit, the warden asked, "Who exactly is it that you seem to believe has outsmarted, outwitted, and outmaneuvered us, for there are quite a few she's in this place."

Lara bit her lip. "You know the one person that always comes to mind whenever anybody speaks of trouble with one of the girl prisoners?"

"Yes….." the warden hesitated. He knew exactly who he thought of, and nothing good could come out of her being involved.

"Well…" Lara began nervously, "that's who the she is."

The warden's narrowed eyes would have been a terrifying sight if he wasn't simultaneously biting his lower lip and pulling back, almost pulling out, his hair. 

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Hope that wasn't too weak. Again, sorry I'm so slow with writing this story. Thanks to all the people who told me that I should continue this story, and I promise I will at least try to.


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